The Street Wise
by cjb1990
Summary: The Dursleys abandoned Harry when he was four. Picked up by a graduate from the street, Harry grows up and goes to Hogwarts. Follow his tale and life through Hogwarts as a street wisened kid with a loving family. And see how Severus Snape is not what he seems to be, while light wizards show their darker side.
1. Prologue

It was dark in the small alleyway off the shopping street. A small dark-haired boy breathed out a relieved sigh. It had been a close call. The police had been on to him, and seemed determined to get him. Sure he stole a few hundred pounds from tourists, but this was almost a witch-hunt. When he was certain the officers moved on, he made his way out of the alley to get back to his place.

Well, not his place, but _the_ place. It had been seven years, since he was kicked out of the house of his aunt and uncle. His uncle had driven him into London and made way with a flimsy excuse. At nightfall, he had realized that his uncle had abandoned him. He shook his head, it had been a while since he last thought about his old life. His life now wasn't too bad, considering.

* * *

"Harry! That you?" sounded from the kitchen area. In the doorway a woman in her mid to late twenty's appeared. Her blue-green eyes smiled at him when she saw him. He showed her the load of paper money triumphantly. "Look Sam! At least £500!" The woman, Sam, opened her arms and he gratefully stepped into the hug.

"Well, come on! The rest is waiting for you, wash up those hands and get to the table. I have made a roast." Harry didn't need to be told twice. In no time at all he was squeezed in between the other kids. His dysfunctional family of the street. None of them were related, at least as far as they knew. Samantha had found them all, and tried to give them as much of a family as possible. She enrolled them into schools, worked her own butt of so they didn't fall into the nefarious practices for money and always had a spare blanket or mattress for the older street kids.

Samantha walked in with the big pan full of dinner. Putting the pans on the table, her sleeves lifted up, showing the tattoo on her right lower arm. For those in the know, it had a world of meaning. For others it was an ugly gang sign. It was the tattoo you got when you 'graduated'. She had been on the streets since she was five, she once had told Harry. Her family had moved away without them telling her, while she was at school. She was banished to the streets, but still went to school. Nobody knew what had happened to her, until she was already graduated at seventeen.

It was the middle of summer now, and Harry had just finished Primary school. Just like his sister and best friend Fred, or officially Frederique. They were excited to learn more, and go to the real school, as their older siblings put it. Samantha looked out over the bunch, a small smile over her lips. At this moment she was housing around ten kids. It was touch and go with money and rent for the place, but she would never do anything different. She herself had to degrade herself to street prostitution to make due. Her first time was when she was ten years old. She would protect these kids against a faith like that against all costs. She felt horrible that the kids still felt the need to chip in and steal money, but she also knew that without that money the little paradise would crumble.

* * *

A few weeks later it was Harry's birthday, reason for celebration. Samantha always bought a cake for their birthdays. The kids she looked over, nearly never had cause for cake and celebration, so she would be damned if their birthdays would pass like any other day.

She woke up the other kids as quietly as possible. Together they went towards Harry's bed. He was still asleep, with a smirk Sam nodded towards the rest. The room was filled with the singing of nine kids and one adult, all tone deaf. Harry bolted upright in his bed. He turned to the deafening sound and couldn't help the big grin that stretched his face.

His birthday always had been his favorite day of the year. The singing was the best way of waking up, everyone in the house smiling and singing off key and wishing you many happy returns. And Sam _always, always, always_ managed cake.

The rest of the day went by in a blur of games and laughter. There were no presents, but Harry couldn't care less. He knew money was so tight that Sam barely could make end meet. When he was younger and realized how much of a struggle the finances were for her, he was scared that she would turn him away because she couldn't afford him. But she never did, but decided to take a late night job four days a week.

At the end of the day Harry was left alone for a minute, and he looked out the window. He felt rather than heard Sam coming up behind him. "Had a good birthday kid?" she asked him. Harry turned away for the window to smile at her. "The best!" it came out without any hesitance.

It was then that his attention was grabbed by something outside the window. A speck was flying through the clear blue sky and it seemed to get bigger and bigger. "Sam, what is _that_?" he pointed at the speck. Sam looked at where he was pointing and felt her heart lurge. She quickly opened the window and soon enough an owl landed on the window sill. He lifted his leg at Harry, who looked uncertainly at Sam.

"It's okay Harry, untie the letter from his leg." Harry did as she told and heard her walk away swiftly before coming back with a small piece of bacon in her hand. As soon as Harry untied the letter, Sam offered the miniscule bacon square at the owl. It looked at her with a look of disdain before taking the proffered bacon.

"Don't look at me like that! It is all I can spare at the moment, and you get enough as it is." With an indignant and almost insulted hoot the owl flew away.

Harry looked from the disappearing bird to Sam. He felt like he was hallucinating, or that Sam had lost her mind. "You know, that was a bird you were talking to?" He felt almost silly asking her this, but couldn't shake of the foreboding feeling creeping up his spine.

He was therefore surprised that Sam laughed heartily at him and winked saucily. "Yup that was an owl. But these are special owls, delivery owls. Very intelligent creatures, who unfortunately have the stomach capacity greater than Kevin."

Harry snorted at that. Kevin was a seventeen year old kid, who moved out of Samantha's two years ago wanting to go off on his own. He was notorious for the amount of food he could scarper away. At a subtle nudge from Sam, Harry's attention was focused on the letter. It was of yellow heavy paper. No it wasn't paper it almost seemed like parchment. He looked at the address:

**Harry Potter**

**Living room window spot**

**Mongrel Mansion**

**London**

How on _earth_ did the letter writer know what his spot was, his favorite spot in the whole house. Come to think of it, how did he know the name of the house as it was known on the streets? It was not a mansion, but because of the security it provided to any street kid, they named it a mansion. It was a house were every bastard, rascal and deprived kid could find a place to stay.

"Come on Harry, open it." Sam's voice could barely contain the glee. She knew what the letter signified. She knew of the magic that Harry had, but never in a million years did she thought that a street kid got a letter from the prestigious school. She had taught him as many meditation techniques as she knew of. It helped him control his magic beyond the capability of any other pre-Hogwarts kid.

Harry opened the letter with trembling fingers. He read the letter with astonishment. After reading it three times he looked up at Sam. "Is this for real?"

Sam nodded. "Yes Harry it is. It means that you must be from a magical family. If you weren't someone from the school would have been here to explain it all to you. Can I see the envelop?"

Harry handed her the envelop. Her eyes widened when she saw the last name. Potter. There was only one magical family with that name. When she had been kicked out, it was an upstanding light pure-blood family. Charlus Potter had been Head Auror, with a son ten years her senior. It was also one of the richest families in magical Britain.

"I think it is time that you and I sit down and have long conversation." Sam sighed heavily. She was not looking forward to explaining everything about wizarding culture to Harry.

* * *

A week later the pair stood outside a dingy old pub in Charring Cross Road. Harry looked at the sign. "The Leaky Cauldron, it doesn't look like much." His nose wrinkled. He had seen homeless shelters in better condition than the pub.

"I know, it looks like a shithole. But it is actually one of the most famous pubs in Britain." Harry couldn't help but be excited. After Sam had explained to him about Hogwarts and magic, he couldn't wait to buy his books. He had been scared about the money it would cost, but Sam had smiled enigmatically and told him everything would be perfectly fine.

Together they stepped over the threshold. It was early in the morning, and the pub only housed a few sleepy people who were eating breakfast. Sam quickly walked up to the bar. An old wrinkled man was behind it, polishing some glasses. Harry quickly followed, weary because of Sam's warning before they had left the house.

"_Listen Harry," He could not remember Sam ever being so nervous and serious. "I have not been in the magical world for a ver,y very long time. I don't know what happened in the twenty years I haven't seen it. But remember what I told you about the dark wizard of those years?" Harry had nodded. "Your family was very light. They were fervent opponents, and Charlus Potter the Head Auror, something like the magical police. If they find out you're a Potter, they can lash out at you. So please stick close to me and don't talk to anyone until I give the okay." _

_Harry had solemny promised. He had realized that they were stepping in unknown territory, something that Sam hated._

The barman looked at Sam,. She smiled at him, "Good morning Tom, I have a small problem; broken wand." The barman nodded and moved from behind the bar. Sam followed him towards the back of the bar. In the small patio behind it, with a few garbage cans they halted. Harry looked wide-eyed as Tom produced a wand and tapped a brick with it. The brick wiggled and became a small hole. Soon it was a large entry way to what looked like a Victorian street.

"Enjoy shopping, and bring my greeting to mr. Ollivander." With those words, Tom disappeared back into the pub. Sam seemed to fortify herself and stepped into the street. Harry followed her.

"Welcome Harry, to Diagon Alley." Harry couldn't believe his eyes. There were shops with the most fabulous items for sale. He saw shops full of owls, cauldrons, an apothecary with a vat full of beetle eyes, as the card above it proclaimed.

Sam didn't give him much time to look around. She shepherded him along the street, until they stopped in front of a white building.

"Gringotts, the wizarding bank," Sam explained. "It is run by goblins." Harry looked at her in shock. "Yes, goblins. They are ferocious creatures, Harry, a proud and warrior race. It is one of the most secure places ever. The defenses not only physical but also magical. Every race and creature have their own brand of magic. Goblin magic is just like a goblin itself. It is proud, warring and vicious if it is tested."

While explaining this to him she walked him into the bank. Harry saw the faces of the goblins as they passed them. It was obvious they heard Sam's explanation, and seemed to be surprised by her words.

There weren't many people in the bank, but Sam still choose a goblin that was seated somewhat away of the small crowd. Harry followed her quickly. He didn't like to admit it, but beyond all the wonder of this world he was quite scared of what could happen. He focused on the goblin who gave Sam his attention.

Sam had waited patiently until the goblin in front of her was finished with the rubies he was studying.

"May gold flow to your vaults," she greeted him.

"May riches come to yours," the goblin responded. It did not happen often that wizard and witches greeted them with such respect.

"We have come to inspect the vaults of my young charge here. He recently learned of his magical inheritance and we would like to perform the tests of the old vaults." Sam had to dig deep into her memories of how to go abou thtings. She had been young, five, when she had to run. She still had the foresight to bring with her old tomes, that could help her practically.

The goblin nodded, and rang a bell. Out of a sight door a younger goblin appeared. "This is Magnar. He will bring you to an appropriate senior manager."

"Thank you. May your enemies die at blade of your axe." Sam bowed to the teller.

"May your courage prove victorious," the goblin stated solemnly.

Magnar leaded them though a labyrinth of hallways. The first few were made out of marble, but soon the walls seemed to be thawed out of hard crude rock. They stopped in front of a red oak door. Magnar knocked, and a response in a weird language made him open the door. Harry wanted to ask Sam. He looked at her with raised eyebrows.

"Gobbledegook, Harry. At least that is what wizards call it. I always wondered if the goblin don't have a different name for it." She explained with the small smile he knew so well.

"We do," a raspy voice sounded from the office. Behind a large mahogany desk stood another goblin. Harry could feel the hairs on his neck rise. The goblin was a warrior, it stood without question. He exuded the power and strength that Harry had learned to recognize from the gang members.

"My lady, it had been many years since my kind has met one as interesting as you. Not many wizards ask the questions you do, or show such knowledge of our ways." Harry understood the demand under those words. Explain, now!

"Fierce protector of the Abune flame, I am not one for the wizarding kind. Not anymore. Freedom is a gift so easily stolen if one does not do sacrifice well." Harry did not understood a word Sam had said, but could see the words hold a whole lot of meaning for the goblin. He saw the suspicion in his eyes gave way to grudging respect.

"My name is Griphook. Senior account manager of Gringotts, the older accounts are partly my responsibility. You have reason to believe your charge is of one the lines?" Harry was confused by the abrupt change of topic. Sam seemed to take it in stride.

"Griphook-nür, my charges Hogwarts letter has arrived a week before." Without further ado, she took the envelop out of her jacket pocket and layed it in front of the goblin.

Griphook took it, and his eyes were bulging out of his sockets. Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived, did not know about his magical inheritance. Anger rose up in the goblin and he turned on Sam.

"What reason can you give to hold this knowledge from an heir?" he grunted at her. Harry saw one claw drifting to a dagger sheet on the goblin's belt. He swallowed nervously.

Sam only looked at the goblin. "Perhaps a test, to confirm our claim of blood?" The goblin nodded curtly and took out a silver colored bowl and a bronze curved dagger.

"Hand," he ordered Harry, who looked at Sam.

"You need to allow him to make a cut in your hand Harry. The blood will fall in the bowl and allows Griphook-nür to confirm that you are Harry Potter. Then he can update us on what happened in the wizarding world the last two decades." Sam's voice turned steel like at the last part. From the corner of his eye, Harry saw Griphook stiffen in his chair. It was clear that he understood it was meant to him for his dig earlier.

Harry slowly extended his arm towards the goblin. With a swift cut a few drops of blood fell into the bowl. Griphook gave him a small pot of cream.

"To heal your hand," it was obvious goblins were not creatures of words.

Harry looked on in interest at what the goblin was doing. A small vial full of hell blue liquid was pored over his blood drops. After Griphook had stirred the liquid three times with the dagger, he put a piece of parchment in it.

Thirty seconds later he lifted the parchment back out of the solution. On the parchment in the same blue of the potion stood with proud letters.

**Harry James Potter**

**Father: James Charlus Potter (deceased)**

**Mother: Lily Potter née Evan (deceased)**

**Magical Godfather: Sirius Orion Black**

**Magical Godfather: Alice Patricia Longbottom**

Harry feasted his eyes, his parents. James and Lily. And he had godparents as well! Why did they never claimed him? Why did he not live with them, instead of his aunt and uncle. It had been seven years but still the scars were clearly visible on his back.

"It seems that we are in for a long morning, Mr. Potter." The grim look on Griphook's face did nothing to ease any worry Harry had.

* * *

Sam and Harry stood outside of Gringotts blinking against the bright sunlight. Their minds reeling from the story Griphook told. Harry was seen as a hero. He managed to conquer the Dark Lord, he survived the Killing Curse? He lost his parents on the same night. And as far as everyone knew, he was still living at his aunt's place.

"Let's go Harry." Sam led the way through the shopping. At Flourish and Blotts, Sam did not only made Harry buy his school books, but also several books on pure-blood etiquettes, the Noble Houses, and wizarding culture.

She also had him buy not the standard potion ingredients and equipment, but the Extra Ordinary DeLuxe edition.

Finally it was time for a wand. They entered Ollivander's. The shop was narrow, but deep. The walls were stacked with boxes that must contain wands.

"Ah, yes. I was wondering when I would be seeing you mr. Potter." Harry whirled around in shock. An old grey man with very light large eyes was staring at him. His eyes moved towards the scar on his forehead. He now knew how he got it. As Ollivander took a step towards him, he instinctually drew back into Sam.

"And who might your companion be, hmm?" He looked over to Sam, and did a double take.

"ms-" he started, almost dumfounded.

"I have not gone by that name now for a very long time. I am not that person anymore, by blood, law or magic." Harry was shocked to say the least. It looked more and more like Sam originally came from the magical world as well. But she didn't have a wand! She would have shown it to him, of that he was certain. It was also obvious that she did not liked reminders of that time.

"My name is Samantha Norwick, and you will address me accordingly." The steel was back in her voice, as well as a new sharpness added to it. "Now, like you said, mr. Potter is expected. So should we get on? I have more things to do today." Haughtiness crept into it now. He had never heard Sam talk like that. To anyone whatsoever. It did seem to do the trick though, as the creepy old guy turned his attention back on Harry.

In the end It took Harry more than half an hour to procure a wand that was fit for him. Holly and phoenix, but no – it could not have been any phoenix. It had to be the brother core of Voldemort's wand. Harry glanced at Sam's face, she seemed just as happy about this development as he was. It was far too big a coincidence to be a coincidence.

They arrived back home, Sam ordering Harry to start studying his school books. She said she had two more things to take care of and then she'll be back home.

Harry nodded distracted. He did not see the group of street fighters waiting for Sam in front of the house. He hadn't noticed the piece of parchment with a very well known address in her hands. But he did notice to fierce protective quality of Sam's voice. With a smile he turned the first page of his potions manual, eager to learn as much as he could.

* * *

It was August 31st, late in the evening. Sam had shaken Harry awake and told him to get dressed. They walked through the dusk towards a famous alley. Not famous as a King's Cross, or even Diagon Alley. No this alley was famous, because it was home to a tattoo parlour. The only parlour that was allowed by those of the streets to set a mark of graduation.

When Harry realized where Sam was taking him, he looked at her with a face full of astonishment.

"Really?" He couldn't believe it!

"Really Harry. You have survived the streets, cold, and danger. You know have money to your name, and a chance at a real and very good education. You my friend, graduated from the streets. And I could not have been any happier.

An hour and a half later, Harry's right forearm burned by the newly set tattoo. But he couldn't care less, he was the proud owner of a weeping rose with seven petals at his stem. Seven years, seven petals, two teardrops for his lost siblings. And , finally Sam turned up her sleeve. Only graduates could really show the tattoo, and only graduates knew the meaning of the loose petals and teardrops.

He couldn't take his eyes of Sam's tattoo. It had thirteen loose petals, and he counted fifteen teardrops. fifteen people close to Sam, of her group, died. Thirteen years had she survived before she 'graduated'.

"Who gave you yours?" He asked softly.

"A man I met when I was seven. He was sixteen and just orphaned and he lost his best friend the year before that. He only had one year on the street, but always stayed in contact. He was allowed to bring me to here and give me my mark." Sam's smile was reminiscing. It was obvious that the man meant a lot to her.

"Now, I have one gift left at the house." Sam surprised Harry. "I still had wizarding money from early on. Now, I finally had a reason to spend it."

It turned out to be a beautiful white snowy owl, who affectionately perused through Harry's hair with her beak. "I'll name her Hedwig." Harry decided.

Sam laughed, "How about asking her if the name is okay with her?"

Harry turned to the owl. "Do you like the name, Hedwig?" Hedwig hooted and rubbed her head against Harry's hand. "I'll take that as a yes."

The day after Sam brought Harry to the station. Together they lifted his trunk on board, and found an empty compartment. Sam brought Harry in the biggest hug she ever gave him.

"I'm scared," he whispered against her jumper.

"Don't be," Sam said, "You're a graduate, nothing can harm you. And besides, I'm only an owl post away."

With those words she ushered him to the train. Just like other parents she stayed on the platform and waved when the train departed. She turned her head away so nobody could see her tears. Doing that she saw someone that looked so familiar it gave her the shock of a lifetime. For there, on the other end of the platform, stood a man with such blond hair, he could only be from one family: Malfoy.

Sam almost run back to the muggle word.


	2. Chapter 1: First Year the beginning

**A/N forgot to mention this: but of course I do not own anything of Harry Potter. That honor falls to the mastermind J.K. Rowling (well naturally, this is ergo made by fans of existing fiction). The only thing I do own, are Sam (OC) and the plot line. **

**Love the positive reviews I had. A lot of questions are already asked, but rest assured; in due time the story will answer them. **

**Now, onward with the story!**

* * *

_First year – Opening Feast, September first_

Harry walked into the Great Hall with a little apprehension. It was so huge! To turn his mind away from the (okay he could admit it to himself, it was fear) awe striking visage of all the students looking at him, he thought back to the train ride. It had been interesting, to say the least.

* * *

When the train had left the station, and Sam was no longer visible, Harry sat back in his compartment. Nobody else had joined him in it. He lifted his sleeve to admire his mark again. It still filled him with pride that Sam now saw him as a graduate. It would mean he'd have a different role to fill when he returned home. He now got responsibilities, just like Sam had them.

He quickly dropped his sleeve when he heard a noise at the door. On the other side of the glass, a girl with bushy hair was looking at him inquisitively. Harry smiled at her and motioned for her to join him. She eagerly stepped into his compartment. Before he could even get a single word out, she was off.

"Hi! My name is Hermione Granger. I'm eleven years old, my goodness of course you know, you're a first year to aren't you? Well, you look like one anyway. I must say, I'm really excited. We never knew we had magic in our blood. Me and my family I mean. Muggle-born, they call it hear. So to make sure that I'm not behind on anything, I've already learned all my textbooks at heart. I wonder what house I end up in. I've read _Hogwarts: A History_ and I must say that I think Ravenclaw or Gryffindor seem to be best suited for me. What is your name?" she looked at him expectantly. Harry could only stare at her. How on earth could she say all that in one go! He must have missed her breathing pause, there is now humanly way out there to say all that in one breath.

"Harry, the name is Harry," he extended his hand. "It is a pleasure to meet you Hermione, but calm down! I'm excited as well, but please don't forgo breathing." He chuckled at the end, and Hermione blushed. They started talking about what to expect at Hogwarts. Harry really liked the girl, although he did get a tiny bit annoyed at the walking encyclopedia part of her. And especially the need to prove that, yes, she did remember everything she'd ever read.

Around lunchtime a trolley full of candy came by. Not knowing anything of wizard candy (Sam never really talked about magic stuff except for things he _needed_ to know. It also wasn't in any of the extra books she bought him, or the stuff the goblins gave him), they tried a bit of everything. An hour later, the compartment door opened again, interrupting Hermione's speech about the levitation spell that they would learn in Charms. In the doorway stood a pale high blonde boy, shouldered by two bigger boys that Harry immediately quipped as Dumb and Dumber. Rocks, muscles, but not an ounce of grey mass up in their skulls.

"So, is it true?" the blonde boy drawled. Harry looked at him non-plussed. "Sorry, who are you? And what are you talking about?"

The boy looked at Harry. "Harry Potter is going to Hogwarts?"

Harry was a bit annoyed. He had been taught the wizarding protocols of upstanding behavior, as Sam had called them. This boy did not act anything like he was supposed to. Maybe he wasn't one of the pureblood families? But he had the attitude of one.

"May I enquire, who is asking me?" Harry was determined to make Sam proud. She had compared the social circles of Magical Britain with the old upper class attitude in the Victorian Era.

The boy shifted, Harry had clearly pointed out his faux-pas. With a slight red coloring to his cheeks, he began again.

"Do accept my sincerest apologies. It seems I let excitement get away from me. It is not every day one meets a national hero. May I introduce my companions and myself? The name is Draco Malfoy, Heir to the Noble and Ancient House of Malfoy. My companions are Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, of the Noble House of Crabbe and the Noble House of Goyle." He ended the introductions with a perfunctory bow.

Harry nodded his head to Dumb and Dumber. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, mr. Malfoy. Allow me to introduce myself and my friend here." Hermione couldn't help but smile at being called his friend. Her mind, however, was working overtime. This Harry, was Harry Potter! He never said anything. And it seemed that he knew the proper conduct of the wizard world. He _had_ to teach her all that stuff!

"My name is Harry Potter, Heir to the Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter. The lovely lady is Hermione Granger, of the Granger family." Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle bowed their head. It was a matter of status, due to Harry being a part (and heir) of a Most Ancient and Most Noble House, he had precedence over them. They nodded politely to Hermione.

Hermione was confused, in the books she had read about the wizard world was stated that most Pureblood Houses (like all these boys belonged to) frowned upon Muggle-borns. These boys just nodded politely.

"Delighted to make the acquaintance." Draco Malfoy responded. "The Granger family. Isn't that the family to whom Fitzwilliam Granger, the Order of Merlin winner back in 1896, was born?" he enquired politely.

Hermione looked at Harry with a bit of helplessness. She was not any good in these kind of things. She did not know what to say or do. Harry smiled helpfully and answered for her. "I'm afraid that is very hard to officially state. As you know the Granger family had a long sideline of Squibs, who did rather well for themselves in the Muggle World. It is my belief that ms. Grangers hails from that line."

Draco Malfoy sneered at her, though trying to cover it up. He realized what Potter had done. By saying that he thought that her magic came from the squib line (which is hard to find out, considering squib lines kept their family name but not any link trough the magical world), he made it impossible for him to make any comment whatsoever. If he did, he would still insult an upstanding wizardly name.

Unfortunately, his two dogs did not have the brains to keep up with the political hassle that Harry'd started with Draco Malfoy. Goyle immediately went for the kill.

"A Muggle-born? Disgusting! And you associate with one?" He made a rude and dismissing hand wave. "Come Draco, we should not stay here longer. If he wants to befoul himself by talking with such dirt, we no longer need to talk to him."

Harry's eyes narrowed, the green of his irises glinting dangerously. Malfoy blushed bright red and realized he needed to try and salvage this situation. His father would have his head if he heard that they insulted Potter.

"My apologies for my companion. We will leave you in peace. My friend has not had many contact outside our three families, unfortunately. He seems to parrot the opinions of certain members of our House that seem to think that magicals from Squib lines are less than the rest of such a family." With hand over his heart, he made an apologetic bow to Hermione. He turned around and almost pushed Goyle into the door to get him out of the compartment.

"Mr. Malfoy!" Harry called. Draco turned around. "Although your companion is one to state such hateful responses, it does not reflect upon your own opinions, I hope?" Malfoy almost sank to his knees in gratitude. Potter gave him an out. He knew this was a one-time opportunity. If one of them mucked it up again, Potter would call insult to his House.

"Of course not, mr. Potter. But one does feel shame to so misjudge one he calls a friend." With a last nod of the head the three disappeared in the corridor.

Hermione immediately rounded on Harry. "You didn't say you were _that_ Harry! And what was al that bowing and official speeching and insult to name stuff! And why were they so demurely around you?" Her face showed a fierce determination; she would not let this go. Harry sighed mentally. He had Sam's help to get through the books of Houses and Classes. She knew a lot apparently. How to explain this?

"Okay first my name. I didn't say that my last name was Potter. I did it precisely because of how you react now! Don't you think I would like for people to like me, because of me instead of me surviving something that cost me my parents?" Hermione shifted uncomfortably at that. From the moment she read about Harry Potter's survival and the demise of the Dark Lord, she'd wanted to meet him. The hero. She now saw that the books forgot the little boy behind the name. and shamefully she had to admit to herself that she'd done the exact same thing.

"Secondly, the Potter name is old. Really old. It is one of, what is rumored, the families that were part of Merlin's founding circle of magicians. Therefor it has the title of Most Noble and Most Ancient House. The Malfoy family originally comes from France. It was a Noble House in France, but not part of the Merlin circle. So it is a Noble and Ancient House, but they lose precendence and primacy over the older families. With me so far?" Hermione nodded, this was fascinating! She read about the start of Magical Britain, but never realized it still held value in today's society.

"Now, Crabbe and Goyle," Harry said the last name with anger, "are old pureblood families. But they hold no important part in any of the political history of Britain. The families come from Britain as far as we can tell, but never were part of the ruling families. So they are called Noble Houses." Hermione suddenly understood how important knowing all this was for Harry.

"And the apology for what Goyle said?" she was hurt. She was so happy to find out that she had magic and was a witch! And to now find out that some people saw her as dirt was painful. "For all we know, I am _not_ a part of that Granger family you guys were talking about."

Harry smirked playfully. "I know that, they know that. However, because I, as an heir to the House of Potter, said that it _may_ be true, they have to act like it would be true. Because of my house's standing. Malfoy introduced me to his friend, so in a way he was vouching for him. My trust in his vow would've been shook had he not apologized for his friend. That would make a breach between are houses, something his father desperately wants to avoid I guess."

Hermione looked impressed. "How do you know all that stuff. Did you grow up in this?"

Harry shook his head. "No, but don't tell anyone that. I actually only realized on my birthday that I was a wizard. I went to Gringotts and got everything explained to me by the goblins who run my accounts." Well that part was true. He couldn't say anything about Sam and Mongrel Mansion though. She wasn't his guardian officially. If the authorities found out, she would be locked up and he would be placed elsewhere. He wasn't going to take that risk.

"The goblins gave me a buck load of books, I had to read them all. Some of them were books out of my family's library. Or articles about political moves from the last two Lords. So I know a long which lines my family stood. I have been studying my arse off, to get everything up here." He tapped his forehead. "Thank God I have something a like a n eidetic memory."

The two friends kept talking about the Houses and the politics, especially the Potter House, until the train arrived at Hogwarts. They were led to small boats, by a giant with a wild beard. In the boat they were joined by a boy with fiery red hair, and a girl with strawberry blond curls. No one really spoke.

When they rounded some rocks, Harry saw Hogwarts for the first time. There was only one word for it; magical. He could see it on the cliff that hung over the lake, many towers and small turrets poping up from places that could not be possible. The windows casted the light of many candles out into to darkness. Lights flickered behind them in the distance.

* * *

Harry came to himself when the group of first years stopped in front of what looked like the teachers' table. In front of the table stood a small stool with a very filthy old hat on it. As Harry looked at it the hat began to sing.

**If you wish to hear a song  
A mad old hat would sing  
Then I suggest you read along  
For I know just the thing**

**Go buy the first or fourth book  
And turn those pages fast  
So you will see when you look  
The Sorting Song at last!**

The entire Hall broke out in great applause. Professor McGonagall unrolled a parchment to call of the names of those to be Sorted. Harry paid extra attention when Hermione was called. He saw the tension in her shoulders as she made her way to the stool. After a while the hat called out; "RAVENCLAW!" With a big smile Hermione made her way to the Ravenclaw table. Malfoy was (not surprising) immediately sorted into Slytherin.

At long last McGonagall called out: "Potter, Harry!"

The Hall, normally silent during a student's sorting, broke out in whispers. Harry saw everyone looking over each other's heads, to make sure they didn't miss anything form his sorting.

Harry grumbled to himself. Why was he so interesting. Really, he survived something, without a clue how, and suddenly he was hailed as a savior. For all he knew, Voldemort was done and over with and decided in a bout of depression to kill himself in his nursery after killing his mother.

'You have the most interesting thoughts, young master Potter' a voice sounded in his ear.

Are you the hat? Harry thought.

'Indeed, better than the last few persons. They thought 'who's there?' not the most imaginative I can assure you.' The hat chuckled in his head.

Well, let us get to the sorting then, shall we? Harry thought.

'Very well. Young ones are always so impatient. Let us see what you are hiding in that noggin of yours, hmm?' the hat was silent for a while. 'Dear me, you had quite a different life than most. But then again, that was to be expected. Aaah, I see young Sam. I was quite disappointed not to have the chance to Sort her, but then again those of her stature are beyond sorting most times.'

Harry was shocked, how did the hat know Sam? It wasn't as if she had been to Hogwarts, the hat said it himself; he had not sorted her, but wished it though. More and more questions arose in his head around the one person in his life he trusted completely and absolutely.

'All in good time, mr. Potter. Your guardian has had a difficult life, it is up to her to decide when the time is right to tell you of her past. Believe me when I tell you the time will come. But back to you, the students and teachers are becoming restless. We have been talking for some time now, you understand.' Again the hat was silent.

'I see bravery, born from a stout heart. I see cunning, learned by a hard life. Loyalty, though not freely giving. And a wish to learn and do well. You are a tough nut to crack, mr. Potter. It is a good thing that you know how to act in every circle in the wizard world. You are going to need it. But I think you will be best sorted into…'

The last word was for the entire Hall to learn: "GRYFFINDOR!"

Before McGonagall plucked the hat off his head, Harry swore he could hear a murmur over the thundering applause the Gryffindor table produced. 'Best of luck mr. Potter. And when the time comes, you will stand by your family, wherever they may go.'

After the last sorting ('Zabini, Blaise –SLYTHERIN!') an old man stood at the High Table. He had a very long beard and very long hair, wihich was as white as the pearly ghosts in the Hall. He opened his arms as if to hug all the students as one.

"For those new, Welcome! For those who've been here before; Welcome back! There are a few words I'd like to say before we start this beautiful Feast. Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" With those words he sat back down in his golden throne, threw his beard over his shoulder and began to fill his plate.

At the Gryffindor table, Harry looked astonished at the man. His neighbor (a fifth year with red hair and a prefect badge) said to him: "That's professor Dumbledore, he is the Headmaster of the School." Hermione nodded in earnest. Harry thought, had trouble keeping his laughter in. seriously? He met homeless people with Schizophrenia who were more coherent than that man!

Deciding to let it go, he loaded his plate up. Immediately he went for the vegetables. As experience taught him, it kept his body going for a longer time than the chips and baked potato skins. He turned to the other first years. A sandy blonde boy with an Irish accent was talking.

"Well, the name is Seamus Finnigan, I'm half-and-half. Me dad is a muggle, mum's a witch. Bit of a shocker when he found out." The boys around him nodded and laughed. Harry didn't. he knew plenty of people whose dads would find such a thing less than funny. And wasn't it the reason why his aunt and uncle had hated him?

Harry didn't talk much, but listened mostly. The other boys in his year were Neville Longbottom, Ron Weasley and Dean Thomas. Two purebloods and one muggle-born. At the end the boy Ron (who really needed a lesson in table manners) rounded on Harry. "And you? What did you do as your first accidental magic?" Harry looked at him in astonishment. The boy knew who he was, the staring at his scar made it abundantly clear. He felt irritated. It seemed like he thought he had a claim over Harry or something. He decided for provocation, ignoring the voice of Sam in the back of his mind not to do it.

"Well, I can't be sure of course. But recorded I guess, it would be defeating Lord Voldemort." He said coldly. It had to be some kind of magic, partly from him. Considering he did not really had any conscious thoughts at the bright age of eighteen months, it must have been accidental magic.

Around him, everyone gasped and turned their heads. Ron had paled, and Neville almost jumped out of his seat.

"Y-You said his name! I –I –I would have thought you of all people…" Ron stammered.

"Wouldn't dare to say it. The man murdered my parents. I will not give him the satisfaction of fearing his name." with those words, the end of the banquet was called by Dumbledore. Harry listened as Dumbledore held his speech.

Right, if he knew one thing of the streets it was that if a person told kids _not_ to go somewhere, they went there. It was like a bull and the red flag; asking for trouble.

* * *

After the long trek through the castle to the Gryffindor tower (guarded by a painting of a truly obese woman) he lay in his bed. He shared his dorm with the rest of the boys in his year. The snoring didn't bother him, he was used to share a room with a lot more people, most of whom always made noises in their sleep. No, what bothered him were the looks certain teachers gave him.

Dumbledore had looked at him with a twinkle in his eyes. Harry had met his share of child molesters and manipulators. A twinkle in someone's eyes usually meant a calculating mind behind it.

Another teacher with black greasy hair and a sallow skin had looked at him with distaste bordering on loathing. And the third was a teacher with a weird purple turban on his head. As that teacher looked at him, his scar tingled and he felt very uncomfortable.

Harry turned over in his bed. He'd write to Sam in the morning, to tell all about the sorting, and the teachers' looks. Hopefully she would know more about it, and what to do. But Harry had the distinct feeling that Hogwarts would not only mean learning magic and having fun for him. He was certain there was a shitload of trouble on his way.


	3. Chapter 3: First Year, First week

**A/N: Hey guys! Guess what!**

**What?**

**I still don't own Harry Potter or anything of its universe or characters. Otherwise I wouldn't slave away in a restaurant for twenty hours a week besides university!**

* * *

Albus was feeling a bit uneasy. But for the life of him he couldn't find the reason why. Harry had arrived safely at Hogwarts. He seemed like a bright and eager young boy, with proper conduct. He Sorted into Gryffindor, the House of his parents. Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom were there as well, and Albus was sure they would make good friends and companions for what Harry most likely will do.

The Stone was transferred into its new hiding place. Nicholas had understood Albus'plea, the chance of Voldemort getting his hands on the Philosopher's Stone was terrifying. Nicholas had trusted him to keep the Stone save, and had a very hefty supply of Elixer to tie him over. Of course Albus had not told his old friend that the Stone was not only for safekeeping here at Hogwarts. It would be the best opportunity to draw the Dark Lord out of hiding. With Harry Potter starting his first year, and the Stone… Albus was sure he would not be able to resist.

Albus knew he had to tread carefully. Harry needed to be tested, no matter how despicable it was. But he did not want to endanger the child.

He popped a lemon drop in his mouth. No, everything was going according to plan. Then why was there the unease niggling at his mind?

* * *

Harry had woken up early. He always was one of the first ones up at home, here it was no different. Getting a piece of parchment, a quill, and a bottle of ink, he made his way downstairs to the common room. He promised Sam to update her as soon as possible.

He looked out of the window over the ground, it really was a magical place. But he couldn't help but miss the ease that existed in Mongrel Mansion. He missed Sam, always up before everyone, cooking breakfast. He missed Fred and her cute sniping little remarks about class mates. He know fully understood that he would not be going to school with her. It made him wish fervently that she was magical as well.

He took his stuff to a table and started writing.

_Dear Sam,_

_Well, it is the first morning here. You were right; it is amazing. I've been Sorted into Gryffindor; the house of courage valor and bravery. The common room is in one of the highest towers; we had to walk all the way up to the seven floor last night!_

_During the train ride here I made a friend; Hermione Granger. She is (I think) a Muggle-born and very excited to be a witch studying at Hogwarts. I never thought anyone could talk that fast! I also got to meet a few people from the old Houses. The Malfoy heir, and his cohorts. Dumb and dumber; but their real names are Crabbe and Goyle. Goyle definitely is Dumber; he must have grown up in the magical world, with all the protocols, but almost managed to give the House an official insult._

_You should've seen Malfoy's face! He was so red, ketchup would be considered pink! He immediately started to apologize, trying to salvage the situation. Do you think he was told to come and find me? Or does he really want to try and be friends with me. _

_I have to say thank you again for the books you made me read. They really were a lifesaver. If I didn't know any better, I would immediately have told them to sod off. That would have been a suckfest if I ever saw one._

_At the feast, I got to see the Headmaster. He seems like a nutter, but I think it is all fake. His speech made Gripper look sane! But to become Headmaster, I guess you have to be super smart or very powerful. Everyone says Dumbledore is both, so I really am wondering why he acts like that._

_Another thing that happened is that during the Feast, one of the teachers looked at me and I sowre that my scar hurt. I don't get it, it never did hurt!_

_I go and try to find the Owlery before breakfast, today is the first day of lessons. I write to you soon. _

_Give love to Fred and the rest? How is Fred doing in school? Is she having fun, and made some friends already?_

_Bye,  
Harry_

Harry had to write slowly, he still wasn't used to a quill. Sam had not been a great help with that either. She told him to write slowly and precise, then when he got the hang of it it would go faster. But how on earth did he get the hang on something like that?

After getting lost for nearly an hour in the halls, he finely found the Owlery. His snowy white owl (he named her Hedwig) came swooping down and landed on his shoulder. Cooing at her, he stroke her feathers before showing her the letter. Hedwig held out her leg for him.

"Take that to Sam, alright?" he softly spoke. Hedwig hooted reassuringly and flew out in to the grounds, quickly disappearing against the white clouds.

After a rather roundabout route to the Great Hall (really, _who _thought it brilliant to make staircases move?), Harry seated himself next to his dorm mates and scooped up some eggs and fruit. He knew fruit would keep you full longer than junk, and gave you more lasting energy. Sam always berated them when they went out and ate Burger King or McDonalds with hard earned money.

"Morning Harry," the red head (Ron Weasley, he reminded himself) managed to choke out around a mouth full of food. Harry couldn't help but be impressed and disgusted at the same time. Impressed that Ron actually could talk coherently with that amount of food in the way, disgusted because he got an up close look at how he mauled the food in his mouth.

"You were out of the dormitory quite early," he continued after swallowing the rest of his food.

"Yeah, I promised I would send an update home as soon as possible about the Sorting and the Feast. I was up early anyways , so I decided to it before anything else." Harry responded. He made very sure not to mention Sam. She had explained before he left for Hogwarts, that if they found out that he lvied there instead of with the Dursleys, he would be taken back or somewhere else.

After breakfast, they made their way to their very first lesson; Transfiguration. McGonagall really was a stern aged witch, with a no-nonsense attitude to teaching. Harry dutifully made notes on how to transfigure his match into a silver needle. When it came to the practical part of the lesson, Harry made sure to read the notes again.

He always was an eager student, wanting to do well in school. Of course this was not born out of proving himself to the teachers. From a very young age, the house he grew up in showed him that he could only come further in live with an education. And Sam had taught him that good grades gave him a better shot at scholarships and student loans. He was not about to compromise his chance at a well-paying job, because he lazed about as a child.

When he thought he truly understood the theory behind the transfiguration, he grabbed his wand. Around him the other students were already waving their wands frantically and screaming the incantation to their matches. Harry had to suppress a snort. Everything he read and what the professor told them, proved that shouting only helped to call upon the magic. Like when they really needed to put all their emotional power in a spell, shouting the spell gave it more power. But to access the magic needed, shouting really had no point.

He did a dry run to make sure he had the wand movement right. Taking a deep breath, he did the spell. To his delight and astonishment, the match started to transfigure. It still had his head, but the wood had turned pointy and silver.

The professor saw his try and immediately came to his desk. She held the match to her eyes. "Well, mr. Potter. In all my years, this is one of the best tries I have come across." Calling the rest of the class to attention, she showed the match-needle to the rest.

"A well-earned five points to Gryffindor for a very successful first attempt. Try a complete transfiguration before the end of the lesson." With a wave of her wand, the match turned back into his original form, and she laid it back on his desk.

At the end of the lesson, he had successfully turned the match into a needle three times. But the best was a whispered comment by professor McGonagall when he left the classroom to head over to Charms. "Your father only managed it one time the first lesson, and he was one of the most promising students of the last two decades."

Harry's spirit felt uplifted. He now knew another thing about his father. He was very good in Transfiguration. His wand was compatible with that. Ollivander had told him that. His mother had a wand compatible with Charms. He could not wait to find out if he had any talent for that as well.

At the end of the day, Harry was exhausted. They had had Transfiguration, followed by Charms. Then after lunch a double hour of Herbology to end it with an hour of History of Magic. The latter must have been one of the most boring subjects ever thought out by the human mind. Or at least, Binns was the most boring mind. A ghost, who didn't know what talking truly meant. He droned on in a monotone voice, that at the end of his first day, tempted him to lay his head on his table to fall asleep.

The rest of the week transpired in a similar way. He kept up with his homework and continued to do well in class. This also meant that he got the name of nerd by the rest of the boys in Gryffindor, who didn't really put a lot of effort in their schoolwork. The only one who seemed to keep aside with the snide comments was Neville Longbottom. A shy and quite boy, who had lost his parents in a more horrible fashion than Harry. Harry liked Neville, he reminded him of the kids who just came to the Mansion. All quiet, and making sure they did nothing wrong, fearing harsh words and punishments.

Harry couldn't bear to see anyone like that, and took it upon himself to make Neville more comfortable. It turned out, that when coaxed out of his shell, Neville was an intelligent and considerate boy, who had a very good sense of humor.

The two sat together in classes, did their homework together and took lunch together. Harry felt more and more at ease with the young boy, and was already considering asking Sam permission to talk about the secrets.

At long last Friday arrived. The day ended with a double potions. It was their first Potion lessons, since their first one had to be canceled due to the third year Gryffindors making seven cauldrons explode simultaneously (a feat that caused the Weasley twins to serve detention with the Potions Master for three weeks). Harry was excited to see what it was about. He had read his Potion book with a lot of attention. Something about mixing ingredients and creating something with as much (or maybe even more) potential than a spell incited him to no end.

With a bang the door of the dungeon classroom flew open. The sallow-skinned man from the Opening feast came stalking in. walking to the front of the room, he produced a roll of parchment. It went down the list of the first year students in this class (Gryffindor and Slytherin). He paused at Harry's name.

"Ah, Harry Potter. Our new _celebrity_." He barely made a noise talking, but the whisper carried throughout the room. Harry looked confused at the professor. He got the distinct feeling that the man really loathed him.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making." He started his speech. It was clear that like McGonagall, he would not take crap from anybody. The class remained silent, he kept order without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death – if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads a I usually have to teach."

Harry felt Neville swallow convulsively as the man's eyes crossed their table. He could almost feel the fear emanating from the boy next to him. Harry fought his instincts that screamed to break the eye-contact with his teacher. He couldn't help to feel the unease he felt at unsavory creatures of the streets for the man in front of his class. He forced all these feelings and memories of his first year alone out of his head and kept his face blank. Blanking people like that out usually made them uncomfortable and move along. They couldn't be sure what rested behind the expressionless eyes and face, and didn't dare take the risk.

Snape looked into his eyes for a few seconds longer, like he was willing something to the forefront but failing to do so. Then he turned around and walked to behind his desk.

"Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry scrunched up his face. He had read about the two ingredients. But how would they react? He had never read about a potion in his book that used the ingredients in this way together.

"Uhm, the name of the potion I do not know. But I'd guess that it would make something comatose. Rood of asphodel is, when burned and inhaled, a powerful narcotic. Wormwood weakens the mind, sir." He answered insecurely.

Snape nodded curtly. "An abysmal explanation, but correct in its essence; it would make something –as Potter said - comatose. It is called the Draught of the Living Death. A sleeping potion so powerful, the one ingesting it looks like a dead person."

"Longbottom, where would you search if I ask you for a bezoar?" He snapped at his neighbor. The boy jumped in his seat. Harry and he had read this, considering it was written in the introduction of the potion manual.

Neville couldn't seem to make his voice work. With a squeaky trilling voice he answered his professor, "Stomach of a goat, sir." Snape did not even acknowledge the correct answer of the scared boy.

"Weasley! What is the difference, between monkshood and wolfsbane." Weasley looked at the professor with a dumbfound expression.

"I don't know sir." He said. Snape's eyes narrowed.

Ah, Harry thought, he has found his victim for the duration of their Hogwarts years. He knew the type, make an example out one student to keep the fear of him in the rest as well. Harry was just glad he found potions interesting. Otherwise he would've never known the answer to the first question, and would've been the victim of verbal abuse by Snape.

"Tut, tut, Weasley. Never considered opening a book before entering your education? You clearly think that your family can make it without hard work?" A malicious smirk played over the man's face.

"To answer for you, considering your dunderheaded tendencies, Weasley. There is no difference! It is the same plant, that also goes by the name of aconite! Write that down!"

The room was filled with noises of people looking for parchment and quills. Snape started to explain the potion they would make today, a simple boils cure with a few ingredients that needed to be prepared in different ways. This would teach the brats from early on the differences between bruising, squashing and mashing. Or cutting, dicing and flaying.

Not long after, the dungeon was filled with different fumes, some thin as a haze others as thick as thunderclouds. Needless to say that Snape could already spot who would be the more talented brewers.

He had been surprised by Potter, he hadn't had the faintest idea that he would reason his answer like that. It proved that maybe, the Potter brat was more like Lily than his father. Snape hoped this would be the case. Anyway, he long ago made a promise to never judge a person by their parenting anymore.

He looked at the table where Longbottom and Potter were working together. It seemed that Longbottom, scared out of his wits by him (and he couldn't help but find vindictive satisfaction in the fact), near a cauldron was a _very_ bad combination. His hand filled with the porcupine quills was poised over the cauldron without putting it off the fire.

"No! Neville!," he heard Potter yell. And with a lightning fast strike, clapped Neville's hand away from the cauldron at the moment he tried to drop them. Snape closed his eyes, but the telltale hiss of a molten cauldron did not reach his ear. He opened them again. He saw the quills lying innocently besides the cauldron, while Harry patiently explained what would have happened.

Neville paled dramatically when he realized that he almost gave himself boils all over, not to mention Harry. Snape agitatedly rolled up his right sleeve, while handling his wand in his hand. Harry caught the movement in the corner of his eyes.

Snape saw him do a double check and stare at the seemingly bare forearm. He had to make good use of his considerable Occlumency skills to not let any trepidation show on his face or in his eyes. But he was sure that no one could look to his glamour! No one except…

Snape paled dramatically, no matter the Occlumency he was employing. No one could see the mark, except those who had a mark.

* * *

**And that is the first week of school. I decided to keep the chapters somewhat short, but then I can update much more often than otherwise. So yes, like many people had already guessed. Snape has a mark.**

**A lot of people are wondering about Samantha's origins. Yes, they are from a character very well known throughout the book universe. Keep in mind though, that it is FANfiction so some things are a little OOC.**


	4. Chapter 4: First Year, Friends and foes

**A/N: Here is it a new chapter. I have to say; WOW! I am sooooo flattered with all the reviews I've had over the past two weeks. When I began this story (due to an unfortunate block and doubtful process of my other story) I never imagined that people would like this story so much. So thank you , for the support!**

**Now, I have a surprise? Really? yeah, I own Harry Potter and everything around it.**

**Uhm...**

**Right, that was it wishful thinking...**

* * *

Severus Snape was sitting in his favorite leather chair near the fire place in his private quarters. Deep in thought, he nipped his tea. Well to be honest, tea with more than a generous splash of Fire Whiskey in it. His thoughts centered around one person; Harry Potter. The boy was a mystery to him. Clearly he wasn't anything like his father. What he heard of the other teachers he was eager to learn in every class, and doing well on it to. He exuded a sort of calm Flitwick had remarked. This surprised all of them, considering the magic of eleven year olds was volatile and often chaotic.

And then in Potions. Snape knew Harry saw something, but couldn't make himself believe that he saw the mark on his right arm. He glamoured it thoroughly, and Harry Potter was _not_ a graduate of the streets. Even if he lived on the streets, to get the mark at eleven? Ridiculous, scoffed Snape metally. But the boy had been rational, and answering his question politely and logically. Not to mention the aversion of another cauldron disaster.

He took another sip of his tea. There was something about Harry Potter that was not all right. He was hiding something, or there was something he mispresented to the world. He briefly considered using Legilimency on the boy, but discarded it just as quickly. He did not need to fall into illegal practices just to satisfy his curiosity. For now he would just watch and observe the boy. He would treat him like any other Gryffindor with considerable talent. He just hoped the boy was indeed as much like Lily like he seemed he was.

* * *

Sam read the letter Harry had send her with a smile. Gryffindor, well not so surprising. She frowned at the last bit of his letter. The looks of three teachers disturbed him. Sam knew Harry. He wanted to escape the streets, so he kept his head down at school and studied his arse of. That did not mean he didn't develop the instincts like any other street urchin would. He got into his fair share of trouble and got out of it. He was truly a kid of the streets and when he said people were looking wrong at him… Well it was not up to Sam to question it. She decided to write back tomorrow, and give Fred's letter to him as well.

She sighed, she was scared. Harry Potter, the name hold more meaning than the both of them could ever have guessed. And now he was re-introduced to the wizard world. She just knew it, it would spell trouble.

* * *

Harry fully enjoyed his first weekend at Hogwarts. He took Neville and went exploring the hallways. The boys had finished their homework Saturday morning, so they had the rest of the weekend off. Just outside the library they met up with Hermione.

"Hermione," Harry called to her. The girl turned around, her arms around an impossible stack of books. When she saw who called her, her face lighted up in a grin.

"Harry! I thought you'd forgotten about me," she chuckled a little unsure.

"Forget? About you? Never!" Harry exclaimed dramatically. "Oh, I like you to meet Neville Longbottom a fellow Gryffindor." The shy boy smiled at the girl.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Hermione Granger. I'm a Ravenclaw. Harry and I met on the Express, we shared a compartment together." She nodded at him. "I'd shake your hand, but they are rather full at the moment."

"Yeah, what are you trying to do Hermione? Read the entire library before Christmas break?" Harry joked.

"No," sniffed Hermione, before getting excited. "I just finished all my homework and decided to do a little background reading. All that stuff you told me about the wizard society and its proper ways is just _fascinating_! So I've decided to read up a bit more on the different Houses and its politics." Hermione stopped for a breathing pause, but before she could ramble on Harry lifted his hands before her.

"Wow, Hermione calm down!" He exclaimed. He couldn't believe this girl. Really? They had just been submerged into a completely different world for a week, they saw portraits moving and ghosts floating around. She decided to take the knowledge from books! What about a good old adventure? Exploring your surroundings? That were his instincts, always know where you are – it gave you an advantage.

"How about you leave these books for now, and go explore the castle with us?" He offered her, with a quick glance to Neville making sure the other boy didn't mind. Like him, he seemed stumped that she would read all the time, but on the other hand; it was stereotypical Ravenclaw behavior.

"But all these books!" Hermione called out frantically.

"Well, we'll wait for you while you bring them back to your common room to read later tonight." Neville piped up shyly. He couldn't help but find the girl cute. She seemed to really want to know everything about his world, he could respect that.

Neville was from an upstanding house as well. The Longbottoms were of the same standing as the Potters. His grandmother, who'd raised him, was a firm and stern elder woman. She'd given him all the lessons on House politics and social etiquettes. So he could see the appeal the books had for the girl. To offend a pure-blood member of the Houses was something that a lot of Muggle-borns fell in to. It was also the reason why so many muggle-borns didn't have successful careers. They made faux-pas, unknowingly insulted members of the Wizengamot and altogether made fools of themselves.

Of course, the muggle-borns and halfbloods just said that the old houses were discriminating against them. But the Old Ways were important. A lot of the magic flowing through the family lines depended on it. Not to mention that Samhein and Yule were being driven away by Halloween and Christmas. The sacrifices and rituals conducted at those holidays worked cleansing for your core. It gave you more of a feeling for the magic in a place, and made you more susceptible for wards and such.

Hermione looked at the two boys with an uncertain look. She really felt out of her depth here. Books were her safe haven. Talking and doing things was not what she was used to. Eventually she decided to take the leap. She nodded to the boys and with a quick 'I'll be back with fifteen minutes' she ran towards the Ravenclaw tower.

The rest of the Saturday and their Sunday was spent exploring. They walked up to the towers, watching the view over the grounds surrounding the castle. On top of the Astronomy Tower, Neville and Hermione held a fiery debate about the different plants in the greenhouses and in the Forrest. The Forbidden forrest was easily seen from the Astronomy Tower, with its dark and gloomy atmosphere. For some reason Harry felt attracted to the Forrest. It was like the back alleys in the worse parts of London. Every savory person would not want to be even close to those places, but when you are used and known around the darker paths, it was a safe path to tread and could bring you protection and security.

Harry figured he had to go in there, if only once. He felt a connection with the Forrest. On the streets of London, when he wasn't in school, he was avoided by the shopping masses and the tourists. The Forrest was avoided like the plague as well, he felt there was more to it then met the eye.

The next week brought a nice surprise; flying lessons for the first years were announced to begin next week. Neville was nervous, claiming he had enough problems moving when he was on solid grounds. The boy slowly but surely came into his dry wit, and was less afraid to show it. Even if it was only to Harry.

Harry on the other hand was excited. He always liked speed, and the idea of flying on a broom with nothing but thin air around him, speeding along the clouds… Well, it was one of his better fantasies.

Unfortunately, the flying lessons were still two weeks out. Harry bemoaned that it wasn't fair to leave them hanging for two whole weeks. Why couldn't they announce it a week alter? It wasn't like they had anything better to do at the allotted time!

It was in Binns History of Magic class that week that Harry felt a jab on his back. He turned around to see Ron Weasley and Seamus Finnigan. Both boys looked annoyed an affronted. He had not talked much with them or the other dorm mate Dean Thomas. He had found his mate in Neville and Seamus and Dean seemed to click as well.

That left Ron as the odd guy out. Harry was friendly to him, but in his opinion the boy was a wreck! He had no manners whatsoever; acting like one of those teenage kids that were turned into beasts on the streets by the gang violence and harsh winters. He judged others quickly, and didn't had one good word for Slytherins. They were all Dark Wizards in training, and part of a very complex conspiracy theory. When Ron had told the other four boys about this, they had shaken their head and rolled their eyes.

Sure, the guy could be nice as well. But Harry always had a distrusting feeling around him. He was afraid that Ron was only trying to befriend him because of the whole Boy-Who-Lived crap. For instance, he hadn't given Neville the light of day.

The boys were staring at him, like he was already asked a question and playing dumb.

"What?" he hissed annoyed, it was difficult enough to keep his attention at the droning voice of their History professor.

"Sure you're in the right house Raven?" Mocked Ron.

Harry rolled his eyes and turned towards Ron more fully.

"For God's sake! The Hat sorts you according to your _strongest_ characteristics. It doesn't mean that you are only that part! There is more to a person than being brave or chivalrous. Are you for real? Do you know that if you do well in your first year and second year, coming in the top ten percent, you are eligible to take Healing Magic classes?" Harry gave them an incredulous stare and turned back to Binns nasal tones.

Next to him Neville raised one eyebrow inquiringly.

"They're idiots," Harry responded to the eyebrow. Neville failed to suppress his snort.

"Nah, they just aren't in the position we are. Heirs and all that, if we do bad in Hogwarts, well, your House will not have many venues left in the end."

Harry stared at him, he hadn't even thought about that! But it did make sense, of course. With high grades, they would make themselves known to all their age peers. In the spotlight meant remembered in years to come. Plus high grades also gave chances for their career options. With better and more career options, they would have more leverage. All this was needed in the political game, without any leverage, your House would be eaten alive in the political arena.

He just realized that although he had wrestled through the books and the goblins' lectures, he was by no means well educated in the House politics. He needed someone who talked from experience.

Adding that to his mental to-do list, he paid his attention to Binns and the bloody goblin war of 614.

The next Wednesday found Neville, Hermione and Harry in the library. They were working on a background assignment for Potions (_What are the different uses if monkshood based on different ways of preparation?_).

Hermione was looking at the two boys on the same table. They were here friends. In Ravenclaw she only had one boy who was nice to her; Terry Boot. The rest saw her as competition and acted like it. Just because she knew all the answers that were in their schoolbooks!

She didn't understand why they were so mean to here. Terry said to her that it was because she answered every question in class. Other people want to prove they know something too. Maybe he did have a point. Didn't Harry and Neville said something alike in the weekend? They had actually convinced her to leave her books for the weekend and went exploring with them. She especially enjoyed talking to the portraits. They knew so much!

She remembered the thing Harry said when they talked about the books and the lesson

"_I know," Hermione had said about the Potion Master Snape, "He tried to do the same thing with us and the Hufflepuffs. He took me to task, but before anyone else could I answered every question right." With a proud look, she had looked at the two boys. She continued_

"_Then he asked me why I was so eager to prove the stereotype that all Ravenclaws are know-it-alls. It was so unfair! I mean, why would he ask me questions, if he doesn't like them answered?"_

_The boys had looked at her, then to each other. Something was communicated between them by their looks._

"_Hermione," Harry had started carefully. "Do you know why people act like that, calling you a know-it-all?" Hermione, completely baffled, had shook her head._

"_It's, well don't take this the wrong way of course, but – It's because just because you know something, doesn't mean you have to continually prove it. You didn't give your classmates the chance to explain or answer a question as well. That can drive people to feel cheated and well, they lash out." He managed to finish, if a bit sheepishly. _

_Hermione had stood frozen on the spot. Unknowingly, Harry had hit her where it hurt. She always, even in primary school, had taken to books. Therefore she knew all the answers and was very quick to respond to the teacher. The kids had started to become meaner and meaner as better as she became academically. Was that because they didn't get a chance by her?_

_Was the reason she didn't have any friends ever, that she wanted to prove to everyone she was smart? Her eyes turned glassy as tears threatened to spill over on her cheeks._

"_Oh Hermione, it isn't that you aren't smart or can't do well in school. It's just, _others_ also like to show that they can be good in school." Harry hurrie to try and placate her._

She know understood better what he had meant. When she'd learnt she was a witch, she thought that she didn't have any friends because she was different. But maybe she alienated people from her? She was always annoyed if people didn't understand something as fast as she could, and started lecturing them. But Neville had told, under midst of giggles and laughter, how Harry had prevented a disaster in potions and patiently explained his mistake, and why the quills added in a potion on fire would cause an explosion.

"Guys," she asked hesitantly. Neville and Harry looked up from their potion manuals, and an article about theories of cutting and dicing.

"Am I really that bad in class?" she had to know the truth. "No mincing your words, just give it to me straight up." Neville looked confused.

"It means that she wants us to tell her exactly what we think without trying to soften the blow, or use pretty words for it." Harry hastily explained to Neville. "It's a Muggle expression."

"And Hermione, you can be bad in class. From what I've seen anyhow, we only have Astronomy together. Just, try to be more understanding if someone doesn't understand something. And let the teacher do the explaining then, yeah?"

Hermione nodded. She was forced to admit there was some truth in Harry's words. And, if he can tell it like this, and still be her friend. Then she will try to become more bearable for the rest of her classmates.

The rest of the week went by swiftly, Harry found it difficult to believe that he was at Hogwarts for two weeks already. He had sent another letter with Hedwig to Sam. Her answer to his first letter had heartened him.

_My Dear Harry,_

_I'm so proud of you; Gryffindor home of the brave is definitely a good fit for you. I'm glad to hear that you found a friend like Hermione already. Remember, just because she talks fast and uses book knowledge, doesn't mean she isn't an eleven year old girl on her own for the first time!_

_Your encounter with Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle sounds well handled. As the goblins told us, Malfoy is a big name in the Ministry at the moment. You used your lessons well. Though this does not mean that you have to put them in their place like that every time they mess up._

_Choose your battles wisely Harry, especially with people like the Malfoys. You are smart enough to understand that insults and verbal battles carry on further than your Hogwarts career, if you choose to make a life in the Wizard World._

_As for your doubts if he wants a genuine friendship, I cannot answer that for you. But I will tell you this; on the streets there are not many friends, but there are family and allies._

_The things you wrote about your teachers at the Opening Feast however… Harry please be careful, your instincts have never let you down before. Keep trusting your instincts, and in worst case scenario; remember what Jack and I have taught you. Not many people around you there would now what hit them (and yes that pun was intended, my humor is astounding)._

_I've enclosed a letter from Fred in the envelop, she was eager to hear about your adventures 'up that fricking north' bound school of yours._

_Let me hear something of you soon, I cannot get enough letters._

_We miss you here!_

_Love,_

_Sam_

He had been relieved that Sam had not dismissed any of his concerns but helped boost his confidence. And she was right, his instincts had never let him down. He would cpontinue to trust in them.

It still left him with Malfoy. The boy had given him cordial nods in the corridors and in Potions he had not bothered him. The same could not be said about his behavior to the other boys, except Neville. It would have been foolish of him to try something with Neville, when he had Harry as his friend and the protection of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Longbottom. Even if the House only consisted of his grandmother and him.

His goons though, were a major problem. They had been the first Slytherins in the memories of both students and teachers, that Snape had to deduct points of in his lessons.

Last lesson they tried to throw a pygmy skin in his cauldron. Only problem was that Harry had razor sharp reflexes and caught the skin just above his cauldron. It all happened in plain view of the professor. When he had asked Harry to show what he had in his hand, Harry showed him the skin. The man had become whiter than ever in pure rage. In the phase Harry's potion was in, the adding of the skin would have cost the lives of every first year Gryffindor and Slytherin, not to mention Snape himself.

Dumb and Dumber got twenty points of Slytherin, and three weeks of cauldron scrubbing. Amazingly, they blamed Harry for their punishment. It caused them to hate him even more.

All with all, the first two weeks were exciting, frightening, and overall made Harry feel at home in the castle. He missed Mongrel Mansion and the freedom it meant, but this; it was his new home.


End file.
